Ironically, the one country that wants to silence my film gave it press I could never afford. Thankfully Moore stood up for my film's right to be screened by politely hanging up on the rather persistent Chinese consular official.

I first learned about the Uighurs about seven years ago while having a beer with a friend of mine in Beijing. He told me about a student in his English conversation class who appeared more Iranian than Chinese. My friend asked the student where he was from and was amazed to learn of a thriving Muslim population living in the far western deserts of China. When the Uighur student noticed another Han Chinese student intently listening in, he told my friend to do his own research on his people as there was only so much he could say in public.

Soon after, my friend and I took a four-day train journey to the desert oases and mountain valleys of Xinjiang province. We had done our research and knew how the Chinese had annexed what was once an independent East Turkestan in 1949. We also understood how China saw the Uighurs' demands for autonomous rule as a threat to its unity, labelling protesters as separatists and terrorists. Some Uighur responses were violent, leading to harsh military crackdowns and human rights atrocities in the region. The Chinese government justified its actions to the world as a homegrown battle in the global war on terror.

Passing ourselves off as tourists we were able to collect footage of a colourful and resilient people. They were Muslim, but the women did not all wear burkas and the men were known to drink alcohol. We met some Uighurs who invited us to a wedding, where we learned how to toast by rubbing shot glasses and dance with other men to show off our moves to the women before they joined in. The Uighurs loved a celebration and after witnessing their second-class status in their own country, we understood why.

Over the next few years I met Uighur exiles in New York in libraries, coffee shops and Turkish restaurants. They suspected me of being a spy for the Chinese, as so many other supposed journalists and filmmakers turned out to be. Why else would anyone be so interested in their plight? Eventually they trusted me enough to introduce me to Rebiya Kadeer, recently released after six years in prison for mailing Uighur newspaper clippings to her exiled husband in Washington DC.

I called Chinese embassies in the US and Australia to get their side of the story. The Chinese have done much in Xinjiang in terms of infrastructural and economic development. While they were happy to discuss these issues, the interview was over once I asked about Kadeer. Suddenly I was being interviewed: "Have you had contact with Ms Kadeer, who's involved with your film and where is it being screened?" I can't understand why they refuse to debate these issues in a public forum; this was an opportunity for them to put their side of the story on record.

Kadeer told me how she had overcome a lack of Chinese government support for Uighurs in education and economic development to become a wealthy entrepreneur. I followed Kadeer for three years, watching her at work raising awareness of the Uighurs' struggle in China. Her daughter Ray feared her mother's work would endanger her siblings still living in China. An exiled leader makes impossible decisions for her people at the cost of her family.

As Kadeer's awareness campaign grew, her family situation worsened. Hers is an astonishing story that embodies the living history of a forgotten people as they struggle to demand basic human rights in China.

Considering the Chinese government's recent demands to silence my film in Australia I am not surprised so little is heard of the Uighurs' plight. But I have the privilege of living in a society that finds strength in dissenting opinions.